Archive for the ‘Pacific Northwest’ Category
Snowy Mt Hood catches the first rays of the sun as it presides over rural Hood River Valley, Oregon.
America is still largely a rural nation. And not just in terms of area. Many states lack major cities and most people still live rurally. In states with metropolises, a well-documented trend, the return of Americans to city centers, has been going on for some time. But another trend has continued unnoticed, and it involves far greater numbers of people. Suburbs have expanded into more traditional rural areas, places once dominated by farming and ranching. These so-called exurbs sit some distance from a city but are still connected to it in many ways.
While some of the exurbs resemble true suburbs and should probably be described as quasi-rural, many actually have a strong countryside feel. They’re usually centered around small towns that retain much of their original character. As mentioned in the last post, those living here are an important political force these days, as witness the last election.
In many exurbs it is only a matter of time before they lose any remnant rural feel. A progressive expansion, fed in large part by retiring baby-boomers but also by steady population growth, is pushing aside America’s original rural character. But this blog series is not about bemoaning that loss. I prefer to celebrate what is left, which while inevitably changed from the old days, is still very much intact.
Seeing Rural America – The Pacific Northwest
Let’s start out in a part of the west that will always be special to me. If you have read this blog for awhile, you know that Oregon is where my heart lies. It’s a place I’ll always call home. I was born and raised on the east coast, but I’ve lived by far most of my years there. I’m currently living in Florida, in self-imposed exile. But I’ll return someday.
A farmhouse sits in the Willamette Valley south of Portland.
DOWN (UP) THE WILLAMETTE
In order to see some of the prime farmland of that drew early settlers to this territory on the Oregon Trail (see the Addendum below), start in Portland and drive south up the Willamette River. I know, south upriver sounds strange. Avoid Interstate 5 wherever possible. Instead take the back roads, hopping back and forth over the river using the few ferries that remain (Canby, Wheatland). Visit Aurora, and Silverton, stretching your legs and being wowed on a hike in Silver Falls State Park near Silverton. Continue south past Eugene, saying goodbye to the Willamette as it curves east into the Cascades. The Cottage Grove area is famous for its covered bridges, so get hold of a map and enjoy the photo opps.!
Keep going south, making sure to stop at the Rice Hill exit off I5. Here you should partake of Umpqua ice cream the way it should be eaten. Delicious! Visit the little town of Oakland just north of Roseburg, where I lived for a time. Then divert west from Sutherlin on Fort McKay Road. to the Umpqua River. Then wind down the river on Tyee Road. Drive slow or better yet, do this on a bicycle!
You can keep going to the coast or return to I5 on Hwy. 138. Another detour takes you east from Roseburg up the North Umpqua to Diamond Lake and the north end of Crater Lake. If you’d rather stick with the rural theme and save nature for later, keep going south and visit the rather large but still charming town of Ashland, where a famous Shakespeare Festival happens every summer.
It’s difficult not to include Mount Hood, Oregon’s tallest peak, in photos of rural bliss.
THE OLYMPIC PENINSULA
Let’s not forget the great state of Washington. One of my favorite places in the world is the Olympic Peninsula. It can be visited on a road trip that takes in both nature and rural charm. The towns are spaced far apart here and Olympic National Park covers much of the northern peninsula. But lovely farms still lap the slopes of the Olympic Mountains and talkative waitresses serve pie at cafes in towns like Forks, which retain much of their timber-town flavour. Everybody still knows everybody in these towns.
Lake Crescent (image below) is incredibly scenic and a great place for a swim. At dusk, in certain light, you can sit lakeside and easily transport yourself back to quiet summer evenings at the lake. I wonder when vacations stopped being full of simple pleasures like jumping off a tire swing, fried chicken on a screened porch and word games in the dark, and became all about ticking off bucket lists and posting selfies?
Even areas quite close to the metropolis of Seattle retain much of their charm. Take the back roads directly east of the city and drop into the valley of the Snowqualmie River. Take Hwy. 203 north or south through Carnation, site of the original dairy farm of the same name (remember?). Generally speaking you need to travel either east or, overwater via ferry, west of Seattle and the I5 corridor in order to experience rural western Washington.
Lake Crescent on the Olympic Peninsula in very interesting dusk light.
I’d feel bad if I didn’t mention the forgotten half of the Pacific NW. It encompasses an enormous region east of the Cascades, one that retains in many places nearly all of its rural character. The Palouse is a perfect example. Lying in southeastern Washington and far western Idaho, the Palouse is wheat-farming at its purest. It is an expansive area of rolling hills, backroads and picture-perfect barns. Despite having become very popular with landscape photographers in recent years, its size means it always feels quiet and uncrowded. I won’t say anymore about it since I posted a mini-series on the Palouse geared toward anyone contemplating a photo-tour. Check that out if you’re curious.
There are so many other routes to explore in the Pacific NW that will allow you to experience the unique flavour of each region. For example a fantastic road trip, again from Portland, is to travel east over Mount Hood. But instead of continuing to Madras, turn off busy Hwy. 26 at easy-to-miss Hwy. 216. Drop into the high desert and visit the little burg of Tygh Valley. Continue east to Maupin on the Deschutes River, famous for its trout fishing and whitewater rafting. Then drive over Bakeoven Road to historic sheep central, Shaniko. Then drop east down twisty Hwy. 218 to Fossil and on to the Painted Hills. This tour, by the way, is popular with motorcyclists in the know. Thanks for reading and have a fun weekend!
A patriotic barn in the Palouse of Washington state.
Addendum: Pacific NW History
I’ve always vaguely resented the fact that the Pacific NW is divided into two states. I think the Oregon Territory should have been left as Oregon, no Washington. To make 50 states we could have split off northern California (plus far SW Oregon) and called it the state of Jefferson. I know a bunch of people who would be very happy with that!
Native tribes have occupied this region for thousands and thousands of years. In fact some of the earliest remains of paleo-indians in North America come from eastern Oregon and Washington. Now a semi-desert, back then it was significantly wetter, with large lakes full of waterfowl, and the rocky hills bursting forth every spring with all sorts of edible plants.
White Europeans began to take an interest in the area very early on in the 1700s. But they only visited by sea. To the north, British fur trading companies sent parties into the Canadian part of the Pacific Northwest eco-region. But it would not be until Meriwether Lewis and William Clark led a party of young, energetic men down the Columbia River to the Pacific Coast near what is now the little town of Astoria, Oregon in 1804 that the young country signalled its intention to make the region part of America.
Edgar Paxson’s famous painting of Lewis, Clark, Sacajawea, Charbonneau and Clark’s slave York at Three Forks.
In the mid-1800s mountain men of the west, with beaver all but trapped out in many areas, turned to guiding settlers west along the Oregon Trail. The destination these hardy families had in mind was the rich farmland along the Willamette and other rivers of the Oregon Territory. Some never made it all the way, instead stopping in cooler, drier areas like the Baker Valley of eastern Oregon and the Palouse, a dryland farming area in Washington.
Timber harvesting, farming and ranching have long been the mainstays of the Pacific Northwest. If you’ve never read Sometimes a Great Notion by Ken Keasey you should do so. It is expertly written and imparts an authentic look at traditional family-based logging in Oregon. The movie is top-notch as well.
But times have changed. The mills are shut down in most places. Private timber lands are still harvested but with few exceptions federal National Forests are for reasons both environmental and economic no longer being cut. The ways in which people here make a living have largely changed from natural resource-based to a mix of technology, tourism and a variety of service jobs.
Trout fishing anyone? Crooked River, Oregon.
This is a short Foto Talk. The light was beautiful this morning at Smith Rock State Park in central Oregon. Even though dawn lacked that warm orange or pink glow we all associate with beautiful sunrises & sunsets, it was a lovely morning for a walk and some photography.
So in the middle of shooting, and just after getting the image at top, I paused and stood on that rock, admiring the river. I wished I could snap my fingers and make my camera gear switch instantly to fishing gear. The Crooked River is a fine trout stream, and all of a sudden I was into enjoying the moment, not photographing it. Bald eagles were nesting nearby too, and at one point a half-dozen little goslings followed mom across the river.
On the grassy banks of the Crooked River in central Oregon.
So today it boils down to one tip and one tip only: enjoy the moment. Actually, enjoy a lot of them! Wherever you are, and whatever kind of photography you’re doing, take time out occasionally to simply enjoy your surroundings and your subject. It’s the reason we do this, to show others through images how we feel: about a place, a person, or whatever subject we’re focusing on.
So leave some time for those feelings to flower. Don’t make photography so much like work. And now I need to find a fishing rod compact enough to fit in my photo pack! Have a great weekend everyone.
Morning sun hits the walls that line the Crooked River at Smith Rock State Park, Oregon.
On the way to the intended sunset spot, I had to stop & shoot this sea stack. 50 mm., 1/80 sec. @ f/10, ISO 200, handheld.
Sometimes I follow up the previous week’s Friday Foto Talk post with one that relates in some way to the topic. So this post is an extension to Using Foregrounds Judiciously. It’s an example of how I go about using foregrounds, and in general how I often shoot landscapes (it’s not how most do it).
EXAMPLE – Golden Hour on the Olympic Coast:
A few days ago I was at Rialto Beach on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington. You may have seen pictures of the Olympic Coast on the web; it’s pretty popular with landscapers. Less popular are sections of the coast away from the road that require hiking. Backpackers are more common than serious photographers in these areas.
I scouted this one in the afternoon, hiking north along the beach to find good locations for what was looking like a great sunset. I only took a few photos; mostly I just had fun beach-combing and exploring tide pools. I don’t always scout ahead of time, but it’s nice when time allows. It helps to give me ideas of how I want to portray the place. And it’s fun! Often I scout but then decide before golden hour to shoot somewhere else. It’s still valuable though, since I can always return another day.
The coastline north of Rialto is spectacular and much too rugged for a road. It has a wilderness feel, and it’s wise to take care if you decide to hike here. Slippery rocks, rough surf, sneaker waves, and giant drift logs that can shift alarmingly under your weight are all potential dangers.
After setting up my camp just inland, I was pressed for time. I knew where I wanted to hike to: just north of a place called Hole in the Wall (image below), but preferably a 1/2 mile or so farther. Even though I was in a hurry, I shot along the way.The light was beautiful! I didn’t take time with a tripod, but it wasn’t strictly necessary with the sun still above the horizon. These little stops meant I wasn’t going to make it any further than Hole in the Wall, and even then it would be close.
Hole in the Wall, Olympic Coast, Washington. 50 mm., 1/50 sec. @ f/11, ISO 200; hand-held.
There is a campsite just before a headland that you have to climb up and over to get where you can shoot Hole in the Wall itself. Some large sea stacks (formerly one single stack that collapsed several years ago) lie just off the beach there. This spot is the most popular at Rialto (why I wanted to go further). A few had their tripods set up, waiting for sunset. I passed them, shooting a few quick hand-helds. The stacks there are just too big and close for my liking, at least in silhouette shooting sunset.
From atop the headland over Hole in the Wall, Olympic Coast. 50 mm., 1/6 sec. @ f/13, ISO 50; tripod.
This may seem like I’m describing a measured approach, and it would’ve been if I was a bit earlier and the sun wasn’t sinking quickly (as it always does except for higher latitudes). Truth is I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off!
I climbed the headland and shot a few pictures from up top, looking down and out to the north (image above). Then I stumbled down to the beach, taking a shot along the way, and still I had not gotten any close foreground. I spotted a tide-pool that was reflecting the lovely light. It was on a rock shelf composed of thin-bedded sedimentary rock stood on its end, forming great leading lines. Running down there, I finally got those close-foreground shots I wanted just as the sun set. I was actually a tad late for the peak light, more on the cusp of blue hour. But I was just in time for images that I’m happy with, and that’s what counts.
Finally some close foreground, which is turbidite sandstone beds standing on end: Olympic Coast. 21 mm., 0.5 sec. @ f/11, ISO 50; tripod.
The forest marches right up to the coast, and the big old-growth trees are eventually toppled and add to the collection of huge driftwood logs. 50 mm., 1/50 sec. @ f/11, ISO 400; hand-held.
As you can see, I try to jam in as much as possible when the light is good. This is one reason I like to shoot alone. Most landscapers would look at me and think “there’s a rank amateur”. Most prefer to be already set up at one place, from which they will shoot for the entire time that light is at its peak. They don’t miss shots like I sometimes do, but that’s because they’re not trying to get as much as I am.
Sometimes things backfire on me, but I like the variety I can get from a single “light event”. And even well-planned shots can backfire anyway. I do sometimes plan or visualize beforehand and stick to a plan to get a particular image. On those occasions I try not to extemporize (much!). But that isn’t my main modus operandi, simply because planned shots so often don’t work out. There are too many variables at play.
This was actually shot a few days later when I returned to get further north, where many pointed sea stacks lie offshore. 70 mm., 1/4 sec. @ f/14, ISO 100; tripod.
To me it seems a bit old-fashioned to set up way ahead of time and stick your feet in the same place throughout the shoot. It’s what was done in the old days with heavy large-format film gear, even glass plates if you go far enough back. It’s also what you have to do when you’re shooting very popular compositions, just so you beat your competitors to the spot. But digital gear is pretty darn lightweight. So if you’re practiced at using your tripod and camera you can shoot different compositions in fairly rapid succession. And who wants over-done shots anyway?
As you can see only one of my many shooting positions had very close foreground; the rest had either more distant foreground or middle-ground elements. Some are just subject and sky. I don’t always shoot like this of course. Sometimes I like to work slower and get fewer shots, with more time to admire the moment. But in a place like the Olympic Coast in great light, it’s tempting to make it sort of a workout. When it goes well (like last night) I don’t feel stressed. It’s actually sort of a rush, one that I slowly came down from walking back along the beach, the Pacific glinting in the moonlight. Happy shooting!
Sunset captured from atop a big drift log, almost to my close foreground but not quite there. 50 mm., 1/5 sec. @ f/11, ISO 50; tripod.
Dawn on the Columbia River, Hanford Reach, Washington.
Recently I spent a night and day at Hanford Reach National Monument in Washington. You may have heard of Hanford. It is an enormous piece of semi-arid steppe in the eastern part of the state along the Columbia River used by the U.S. Department of Energy for nuclear purposes. But we’re not talking energy here. This is a little story (or travel post if you will) about how an idea of questionable moral foundation accidentally becomes a brilliant idea.
In the early 1940s, during World War II, the Federal Government came to this mostly empty part of Washington with an ultimatum. They told the residents of the small town of White Bluffs, along with scattered ranchers and farmers in the region that they could support their country’s war effort by leaving their homes within 30 days. The simple folk of eastern Washington didn’t know it but the Manhattan Project was getting started.
The White Bluffs baseball team before the Federal Government came to town.
The Feds were interested in Hanford because it was remote, wide-open and with endless supplies of fresh water. That last requirement was especially important because their goal was to do what Iran is trying to do more than 70 years later: enrich plutonium to make an atomic bomb. They also used Oak Ridge, Tennessee and Los Alamos, New Mexico (where the bomb was finally assembled and tested).
But Hanford was by far the largest site. That’s not because they needed all the space. Actually the main development would take place in a relatively small area at the center of the nearly 600 square-mile site. A few nuclear reactors were scattered along nearer the river, close to much-needed water to cool the reactors. The enrichment took place in the center with plenty of buffer space..just in case.
An early spring morning on the Hanford Reach, Washington.
Nowadays nothing much happens at Hanford. Intense cleanup efforts have been partially successful, although there are fears of groundwater contamination miles from the site. But along the Columbia River things are going along quietly as they have been since the U.S. government came here.
This is the longest free-flowing stretch of the Columbia above tide-water. No farming or ranching has taken place since 1943. So the quality of the habitat (what’s called shrub- or bunchgrass-steppe) is exceptional. And it’s all because of the Manhattan Project, of all things. Also it didn’t hurt that President Clinton in 2000 protected it as the Hanford Reach National Monument.
The bunchgrass steppe.
By the way, in 1996 the remains of an ancient hunter (Kennewick Man) was found eroding out of the river bank near the Reach. The native tribes fought with Federal scientists to acquire and re-bury the remains in accordance with the law. But scientists wanted to study the well-preserved skeleton to learn something about the earliest Americans. The Feds won in court because it was unclear at that time if he was even related to modern tribes. His skull indicated different looks. But in 2015 DNA evidence pointed to the fact that Kennewick Man was most closely related to the native tribes of today. If the tribes are still interested (which I’m assuming they are), all they need to do is take it back to court and I’m sure the decision will be reversed so that he may be reburied by his descendants.
Walking along the Columbia, Hanford Reach National Monument, WA.
There really isn’t too much to see here, but maybe that’s the point. Much of it is off limits for protection of nesting birds and native vegetation. You can simply drive along the river, stopping at the few places where there is public access. Or if you really want to experience it you can float a canoe or kayak down the river. From White Bluffs viewpoint you can walk or bicycle along a closed section of roadway. Whatever you do and however long you stay, you’ll enjoy the quiet, wide open spaces.
Hanford Reach with White Bluffs in the distance. Note the retired plutonium reactors left of the river in the background.
What started off as a place to plan and build a device that would kill 200,000 people in Japan, a place that began the age when humans are able to destroy large parts of the planet, is now a windswept and pristine grassland, where a river that is largely dammed and tamed gets to just be itself. That’s what I call a beautiful accident. Or you could say “every dark cloud has a silver lining”. Thanks for reading!
At riverside: Hanford Reach, Washington.
Winter’s first snowfall: southern Utah.
This week I got snowed on for the first time this season, on the Colorado Plateau in southern Utah. It’s been cold too, well below freezing some mornings. So I think it’s time to talk about winter photography.
First of all, I’m assuming you want to keep shooting in wintertime. There really is no reason to stop. There is a beautiful crystalline light that is unique to winter. And this is the time to go for fog and other moody atmospheres. Most important, how else are you gonna get a shot for that Christmas card?
Fairy Falls in winter, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon.
Don’t worry, your camera will be fine. In fact, excessive heat and humidity are much bigger worries than cold is. Camera manufacturers publish a lower limit of around 32° F (0° Celsius). But modern DSLRs can function just fine down to 0° F and even lower with no ill effects. You just have to follow a few simple precautions:
- Be Gentle: Cameras and even many lenses are mostly plastic these days, and plastic gets brittle and will break much more easily in frigid weather. The metal parts also get more brittle. So avoid knocks and be especially careful with both camera and lens. Glass doesn’t care how cold it gets, but you’re already being careful with that spendy glass, aren’t you.
The old one-room schoolhouse in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
- Beware Condensation: When you bring a camera that has been in the cold inside, or anywhere warmer, there’s a risk of moisture collecting inside the camera and lens. Obviously this is not good. So before coming in from the cold, put your equipment inside your zipped-up camera bag at least. A large ziplock or otherwise sealable plastic bag is even better. Let your gear warm gradually inside that bag before taking it out. The colder it is outside, and the more humid the warm place you’re bringing it back into, the more important it is to follow this advice. It’s also a good idea to let it cool off gradually, inside your camera bag, before shooting.
Oneonta Gorge, Oregon.
- Battery Blues: Batteries have shorter lives when they’re cold, and the colder the shorter. So bring extra batteries and keep the spares in an inside pocket, near your skin. If you know you’ll be shooting again next day, keeping the camera and lenses inside your trunk, where they remain cold, will avoid the whole condensation thing. But remember to take the battery out and bring it inside to recharge. If you take your memory card out to upload photos, stick it in a little ziplock before coming inside and let it warm up gradually.
Late afternoon light hits Silver Star Mountain, Washington, after a mid-winter snowstorm.
A clear, quiet morning at Bench Lake, Mt. Rainier National Park. 30 mm., 1/60 sec. @ f/11, ISO 320, handheld.
Camera makers have been providing ever higher quality images, with lower noise at higher ISOs. No, I’ve not become a cheerleader for big corporations. But this little factoid is true nonetheless. By the way, a rule of thumb: the larger the sensor in your camera, the less noise you’ll have when shooting at high ISO. It’s one reason that cameras with full-frame sensors have become so popular. Size isn’t the only thing affecting noise, but it’s an important factor.
Besides sensor size, camera makers have been improving noise performance across the board, even on crop-frame sensors. It’s especially true with high ISOs, but noise has also improved for very long exposures. My last post focused on ways you can shoot without a tripod, the easiest way being to simply raise ISO. This post will cover some tips on balancing noise and ISO with your exposure needs.
A hoary marmot is getting ready to chow down on some lupine high up on Mt. Rainier, Washington. 100 mm., 1/500 sec. @ f/2.8, ISO 500, handheld.
The Oregon Coast Range. 135 mm., 0.8 sec. @ f/9, ISO 100, tripod.
Don’t fixate on how high ISO can be set on your particular camera model. That’s pretty well meaningless. Just because you can set your ISO over 25,000 doesn’t mean you’ll be able to shoot a decent picture at anywhere near that ISO. Think of the max ISO advertised for a given camera as a general guide to ISO performance. Real-world shooting is the only way to see how high the ISO can be set for a given situation, and still allow a fairly sharp image to be captured with low levels of noise.
So Heres a TIP: Fairly soon after buying a new camera, learn how high you can raise ISO and still capture an image with manageable amounts of noise. Manageable noise is noise that you can handle with the software you have. Lightroom does a very good job with noise, but there are plug-ins (like the great Topaz DeNoise) that can reduce or even eliminate high levels of noise. It’s going to take some practice with both your camera and your software.
I got a kayak! Here it is 1st time on saltwater on a bay at the Oregon Coast. Handheld shot with polarizer.
While you’re figuring out what that ISO ‘tipping point’ is, remember these two caveats:
- Caveat 1: As I’ve mentioned in several prior posts, the longer your focal length, the faster your shutter speed needs to be for sharp pictures. This also means, assuming you’re off-tripod, that you’ll need to raise ISO more for shots with longer focal lengths. Obviously you’ll need to raise ISO more for dimly lighted subjects as well.
- Caveat 2: This one is more subtle and refers to the shadowed or dark areas in your image. If you anticipate later filling (brightening) those areas on the computer, you will have increased noise in those areas (but not so much in brighter areas). The more brightening you need to do in post-processing, the more noise you’ll need to handle. But it’s area-specific.
Precious rain, Oregon. 100 mm. macro lens, 1/40 sec. @ f/13, ISO 400, tripod.
This little guy lives along Coldwater Lake, Mt. St. Helens. 100 mm. macro, 1/40 sec. @ f/2.8, ISO 1250, hand-held & braced against a rock.
This relationship between the variable brightness of your scene and noise means, in effect, that you can get away with raising ISO more for overall higher-key (brighter) images that have fairly even illumination than you can for lower-key (darker) images that have a lot of dynamic range (contrasting illumination) across the frame. Of course, if you anticipate leaving shadowed areas fairly dark, you don’t have to worry so much about noise; it won’t be visible. That was true for the dark face of that marmot above, for example.
This leads inevitably to the differences among different camera makers. The big two, Canon and Nikon, have been competing in both the low-noise/high ISO arena and the resolution (megapixel) arena. Meantime, Sony has been working a lot on dynamic range, along with (more recently) ISO/noise. I could say a lot more about this but it won’t really help you take better pictures, so I won’t. Remember, this is not the blog for specific gear recommendations.
A monkey flower at Mt. Rainier. 100 mm. macro, 1/250 sec. @ f/5.6, ISO 1250, hand-held & small breeze.
The important thing is to use the camera you have in your hands to its limits. Don’t hold back. Practice with it in the dark, on moving platforms (boats, etc.), in situations where it really isn’t made to produce perfect photos. It’s not your job to exactly match your gear’s supposed capabilities, and it’s senseless to wish for something with more megapixels, or more dynamic range. Rather it’s your job to stretch the capabilities of your gear. If you really work at this, you’ll invariably miss on a lot of shots. But those you hit on will shine!
Have a wonderful weekend, and happy shooting!
Back home! Sunset in the Columbia River Gorge, Oregon. 50 mm., 6 sec. @ f/11, ISO 50, tripod.
A small falls along Gorton Creek in Oregon’s Columbia River Gorge.
Gorton Creek tumbles down one of the formerly not well known little side-canyons in the Columbia River Gorge. Now, like the Gorge itself, it is fairly popular with photographers. This verdant place is even on many photo workshop itineraries. That’s because it’s a short hike in, is very green, and has two lovely waterfalls that are not well visited generally.
Parking at the end of the campground just off the Wyeth exit, a 1/4-mile walk will take you to the first falls, which is so small it has no official name. The second one, called Gorton Creek Falls, involves either scrambling up along the steep left side of the creek on a user-made path, or hopping rocks and logs along the creek proper, and probably getting your feet wet. It’s only another 1/4 mile up the creek.
Gorton Creek Falls.
The second method is good if you want to get pictures along the creek, but it’s best to have shoes or sandals that can get wet. The potential shots are more numerous when water is high, in late winter and early spring. This year the water is fairly low, which means it’s easier to hop rocks up the creek but harder to get good creek shots (in my opinion).
In fact on this recent visit, for the first time, I didn’t do any creek pictures, only shooting the two waterfalls. The bottom image is from a previous year, in high spring flow. The more rain, the greener everything is. So it’s wise to try and plan a trip to the Gorge during or at the end of a wet springtime.
A long exposure in gathering dusk of Gorton Creek’s verdant little canyon.
Crater Lake, Oregon
My first day back in Oregon after almost a year gone, and I am psyched! I went up to Crater Lake and hiked out into the snow for a sunset that never quite materialized. But it was magnificent as always, staring down and out at one of the most beautiful lakes in the world.
For those who don’t know, this is a caldera: a giant hole in a volcano. Calderas usually fill with lakes, at least until they are breached by erosion and drained. This particular caldera was formed when Mount Mazama exploded in a furious eruption about 6700 years ago. It’s estimated that the mountain was a bit bigger than Mount Shasta, making it one of the (former) giants of the Cascade Range.
The large magma chamber underneath the mountain emptied rapidly and gravity took over. The entire peak area collapsed down, creating a caldera. Some of the last volcanic activity at Mazama, some 800 years ago, formed Wizard Island at one end of the lake. You can visit the island on boat tours. I highly recommend you do this if it’s summertime and the tours are running. You can hike to the 763-foot summit and then return to the cold blue lake waters for a very refreshing swim!
The meadows at Crater Lake aren’t as abundant as at some other Cascade Mountains, but they are nonetheless beautiful.
By the way, hiking to the top of Wizard Island gives you the all-time best lesson in the difference between a crater and a caldera. Wizard is a cinder cone, a pile of loose pumice and other debris ejected into the air as hot frothy lava and ash. At it’s summit is a crater, the hole left when that debris blasted out of the summit vent. So instead of collapse into a large void beneath the mountain, craters are created by explosion outward. Craters are normally quite a bit smaller than calderas.
This isn’t Crater Lake, it’s the lake filling Rinjani Caldera, a still-active but otherwise similar volcano on the island of Lombok, Indonesia.
Mazama’s position and height make it a magnet for snow storms, so it wasn’t long before the steaming caldera filled with some of the world’s cleanest water. Springs in the porous volcanic debris also helped fill the lake, where evaporation and input from these two sources are now in equilibrium. Visibility down into the lake is awesome, 100 feet plus. In recent times that clarity has fluctuated, and scientists monitor things closely.
The forests surrounding Mount Mazama attract snowclouds in this image from the other morning.
My first morning back into my home state after a long time away, and this is what it looked like: Upper Rogue River area
Often overlooked when people come to Crater Lake are the beautiful forests surrounding the mountain. On the wetter west side rises the Rogue River, which the writer Zane Gray made famous when he lived and fished its lower reaches. Wandering around the rugged and heavily forested upper Rogue you’ll find big evergreens and crystal clear streams, punctuated by the occasional waterfall.
Enjoy Crater Lake, Oregon’s only National Park!
Crater Lake in August.
Everybody is posting winter images these days. In some parts of the U.S. it is very hot. Not too hot. It’s summer after all, and to complain about heat in Texas during July is rather pointless I think. It’s supposed to be hot there in July. Besides, we should enjoy these summers. They’re cool compared with what’s coming in the future. But this isn’t a post about global warming calamities. Just a winter image I captured in February, and probably my favorite one so far this year. It’s also a post with good news!
The reason I like this picture is because of the (lucky) timing and unusual combination of weather forces. The Columbia River Gorge occasionally freezes up. Doesn’t happen too often, and when it does, local photogs. head out to shoot frozen waterfalls. It never lasts very long. This time it lasted 3 days, and I was out there at the stormy peak getting shots of big icicles and such.
On the 4th day a warm front started moving in. I went out to the Gorge, curious to see what the melting would look like. The freeway was a mess. Cold air had held on within the Gorge, causing sleet to fall overtop the snow. I finally made it with not much day left, and only had time for one stop. Instead of a waterfall I walked through the thick brush to the river at this spot I know with a view of Beacon Rock. Ice had glazed over all the trees and branches, and at the riverside the mossy rocks had a layer of ice-covered snow on them.
But what was most intriguing was the sky. The warm front was riding up and over the cold air, causing some very angry-looking cloud formations. I grabbed a few shots as the freezing rain started to turn to slushy rain. I love shooting at transitions like this. It often produces strange but beautifully moody pictures, and this time was no exception.
The reason I’m posting the picture (again) is that I’m hoping now to get an even better picture this year. I couldn’t say that with confidence before yesterday, because I didn’t have a good camera. The one that allowed me to capture this image, as most of you know, took a dive into a waterfall last spring. I’m happy to say I can finally put that episode truly behind me.
Yesterday I rode my motorcycle up to Seattle to meet a woman who sold me her Canon 6D. It’s a much simpler and cheaper version of my trashed 5D Mark III. She was upgrading to the 5D in fact. And she had not had the 6D long; it’s in new condition! So now I’m almost home free. All I need is to buy a lens to replace the one damaged in the waterfall and I’ll be back to full strength. I’ll post new images from it soon. That’s right all you wonderful people in blogville, I’m back baby!!
Crashing Skies: A winter storm passes through the Columbia River Gorge, Beacon Rock sitting on the Washington side of the river.